Cessation Of War
by fickleAdoxograph
Summary: Alfred gets scared after watching a horror movie by himself, and goes over to Arthur, seeking safety. However, Arthur decides to teach him a lesson to make him stop this annoying habit of his. The night doesn't exactly end up like either of them thought it would. Human names used.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or its characters._

_AN: Hiya! Here's some UsUk for you! However, it isn't really that much romance in it. I did manage to indicate it a little bit towards the ending though, even though I tried not to make it too obvious. This vague kind is a lot more enticing._

_Perhaps sometime, someday, Joni can make something really fluffy or smutty that _isn't_ SpaMano._

_...Well, one can dream._

_Enjoy~!_

* * *

Alfred took another deep breath, knocking forcefully on the door in front of him a few times. He knew that it was late, and Arthur was probably sleeping already, but he really couldn't be alone in his own home right now. Not when he was _this_ scared.

He had been watching another horror movie by himself. Alfred never seemed to learn that it was a bad idea.

Like so many times before, his natural instinct had been to go to a friend's house. He was very well aware that Arthur would probably scold him, being mad because of him coming over uninvited at such a late hour, and for being stupid enough to watch a film about ghosts when he _knew _he could not handle it. Alfred had heard it all before, but that didn't stop him from going to the Brit to feel secure.

"Hey, Artie? You there?" Alfred called out for him, knocking again.

Was that a sound coming from the bushes behind him? Alfred turned his head quickly, looking around as he felt his heart racing at a vicious speed in his chest. If Arthur didn't open his door and let him in soon, he was sure he'd be killed by some sort of monster, or demon.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Alfred repeated in a whisper, turning to face the door again. "Arthur, open up!" He shouted again, and this time he could hear someone moving on the inside of the house.

He let out a relieved sigh, feeling his pulse begin to beat in a normal pace as the door opened and the familiar Brit stood in front of him. Alfred didn't even wait to be invited, pushing past him and walking inside.

"Finally!" He exclaimed, ignoring the roll of Arthur's eyes.

"What is it now, Alfred?" He asked him, sounding incredibly unamused.

Alfred took his shoes and jacket off, walking into the kitchen, soon to be followed by Arthur. "Well, I kind of... Sort of... Watched another horror movie, and I-"

"Of _course_ you did," Arthur sat down by the table, a steaming cup of tea already placed there since before. Alfred sat down across from him, his lips formed into a sheepish smile.

"Yeah..." He mumbled, rubbing his neck, "So I thought I'd come somewhere I didn't have to be alone, you know. Somewhere safe." He nodded, as if to prove his point.

Arthur looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Hm? Somewhere safe?" He repeated, making it sound like a false statement. Alfred noticed right away that the Brit surely had something cunning in mind, and he wasn't up for any pranks or tricks. Not now, that he was so frightened. Even though he had pulled quite a wide amount of pranks on Arthur as well during the years they'd known each other. However, this was _not_ the time for Arthur to have revenge, Alfred decided.

He nodded quickly, wanting to rid the other of any evil plans. "Yes. _This_ is safe. Being with you is safe!"

A smirk played on Arthur's lips, as he sat back in his chair and nodded, sipping his tea. "Ah, if you say so."

"Yeah," Alfred muttered, "Don't you agree?" He asked, instantly hit with regret over his words. He was playing along just the way the Brit wanted him to, and he knew it.

"No place is safe, Alfred." Arthur stated, looking as wicked as ever.

Alfred swallowed thickly. Perhaps he should have gone to Matthew's place. Although, he could be just as mischievous as Arthur, if he wanted to. And Kiku's place was out of the question. Even though the man himself wasn't that much for scaring Alfred, it seemed as if his home was. Just thinking about all the demons and ghosts that he'd been told lived there gave Alfred chills.

"What do you mean?" He asked, staring at Arthur as if in a daze.

"Well," He stood up, setting his cup down on the table and walking around slowly, aimlessly around the kitchen. "I'm just saying, a lot of things that you see in the movies can appear in real life, whether you're told that they're just stories or not."

Alfred laughed nervously. "Whatever dude, you're the only one who can see all those faeries and stuff anyway!"

Arthur gave him a scolding look. "I'm not talking about faeries and unicorns, you twat."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh? What are you talking about then?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Arthur snickered, suddenly standing very close to the American. He could almost feel Arthur's breath tickling his face, and he watched him in horror of what he was about to say. "Ghosts."

Alfred's heart skipped a beat. He knew Arthur was messing with him, but that didn't stop it from working. He couldn't bring himself to speak, so he just gave him what was intended to be an incredulous look, but what probably just looked as scared as he actually was.

Arthur continued, "Do you remember the stories I used to read to you when you were a child? The ones about ghosts, and pirates, and demons from hell?"

Alfred furrowed his brows, speaking up even though he was afraid his voice might break. "N-No... You never read stories like _that_ to me..." He protested, trying to remember what Arthur was talking about. He could recall some pirate stories, but those were mostly adventurous, and not scary at all. It'd be quite odd to read tales of the 'demons from hell' to a kid, after all. He felt unsure about where his former caretaker was getting at with all of this.

Arthur stood up straight again. "Hm? Well, I can always tell them to you _now_ instead."

"Er- That really won't be necessary!" Alfred declined, standing up as well. Arthur looked at him with darkened eyes. How could it be so easy for him to just change like that?

"Oh, but I insist," He said, "They're very fascinating, I assure you."

The younger male shook his head, putting his hands up in a surrending manner. "No, really. Dude, I didn't come here to get even more frightened!"

Arthur shot him a deranged smile, before turning to take the cup of tea in his hands again, walking out of the kitchen. Alfred couldn't help but to let out another relieved sigh, hoping that Arthur had given up on scaring him. He wasn't so sure about that, though.

Reluctantly, the American followed him with unsure steps, watching as he walked into another room, stopping in front of a few bookshelves. Alfred had a vague idea of what the man was planning, but did not want to think it to be true. He rubbed his neck nervously, fright clear in his eyes as he spoke.

"Hey, Art? What're you doin'?" He asked warily, coming further inside the room to see what books Arthur was scanning so thoughtfully.

It seemed to be the fantasy section, and Alfred understood just what Arthur's intentions were. Hopefully he wouldn't find anything about paranormal creatures in the fantasy section. Why would the Brit even have books like that? He only ever read stuff about dragons or wizards anyway, except for the history books he'd lecture himself with every now and then.

Arthur retreated to sit down by the fireplace after a while, making Alfred feel an ounce of victory wash over him. Hah! Of course he hadn't found anything!

He followed to sit down in the couch beside Arthur, sighing softly as he watched the flames before them dance around like enticing, orange ballerinas.

"Alfred?" The Brit spoke up after a few minutes of comfortable silence, "Have you ever heard of the Chillingham Castle?"

Alfred could easily detect the sly tone in his voice. He should have known that the wry old man had some stories memorised by heart. It was almost as if it made him want to roll his eyes at his own naivete.

"No, and I don't think I want to, either." He said flatly, hoping vainly that Arthur would just lay off with his evil plans.

The latter took another sip of his tea, not even glancing at Alfred as he spoke in a low voice. "They say it's haunted."

"I expected as much." Alfred muttered, earning a small chuckle from Arthur.

He let a few seconds pass before he continued. "And do you know why it's haunted?"

Alfred couldn't help but to actually roll his eyes this time. "How the hell should I know?"

"Watch your mouth, Alfred." He warned, slurping from his tea one final time, before putting the cup away on a little table beside the couch. He crossed his legs, looking up at Alfred. "Chillingham Castle is regarded as one of the most haunted places in all of the United Kingdom. The castle was built over 800 years ago for one purpose, and one purpose alone: killing." Arthur whispered the last word, leaning a little closer. Alfred was sure any other person would think the Brit to be silly with his exaggerated movements in the storytelling, but since he had been the one to tell stories to Alfred ever since he was a little kid, his way of doing it always had a serious impact on the American. It added drama to it, which was of course Arthur's intentions. Alfred did not like the way he could use his techniques with horrible tales like this, however.

"O-Oh?" He asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Arthur nodded. "Mhm. In the heart of Northumberland, the castle was the first in line of defence, keeping the Scots from getting across the border to invade England, back in the days when the castle was ruled over by King Edward I."

Alfred had never been much for the history of the UK, really, even though Arthur had tried to teach him about it. Perhaps if he was lucky, his lack of knowledge in this area might save him from understanding the story.

Arthur continued, "If you go into the dungeon, you will find markings scratched into the mortar where prisoners have kept count of how many days they have to live. The dungeon was very small, and the torture those poor souls had to go through, oh my..." He said, not sounding as if the story affected him at all, but just that he found it a pity. Alfred almost wondered why the man was not seemingly more traumatized from what seemed to have been such terrible events going on in his own country, but then remembered how this was probably not true at all. Hopefully.

All in all, he almost found himself a little curious now. Why did he always have these needs to hear about horror stories when they always put him in such a bad state afterwards?

"Having their arms and legs broken, before being thrown down a twenty feet deep hole into the Oubliette, and being left there to die was expected for the prisoners. They would either starve, or be plagued to death from their injuries."

Alfred winced a bit, he certainly wasn't enjoying this story at all. Right now it only sounded disgusting and cruel, rather than frightening.

"Sometimes," Arthur continued, "the prisoners would eat chunks of flesh from others, and even their own bodies in a vain attempt to prolong their life."

"That's sick, man." Alfred said quietly, his voice breaking slightly.

Arthur leaned in closer, that same old wicked smile playing on his lips. Just the sight of him alone had got Alfred on the edge of his seat in fear and anticipation.

"Young people were also killed there. Young girls, even. They showed no mercy at all."

"There's something seriously wrong with your people." Alfred almost found himself sweating. Man, he was letting Arthur get to him...

"And it is said, that if you look down that hole to the Oubliette..." Arthur spoke slowly, quietly, making Alfred's heart race as he waited to hear just _what_ one would see down there, "you can see the remains of a young girl... looking back at you."

Just as Arthur finished his sentence, a high-pitched screech was heard from the other side of the room, making Alfred jump in his seat and cry out in his sudden fear. He turned towards the sound, finding that it was only Arthur's cat calling for attention.

Alfred clutched at his chest, trying to get his breath back to normal, as Arthur sat beside him laughing at his misery. He shot the Brit a vicious glare, feeling extremly exasperated by his malicious attitude.

He kept his piercing stare up until Arthur seemed to have settled down, wiping some tears that had formed in his eyes from the laughing. With a huff, Alfred stood up and folded his arms over his chest.

"Since when are you such a devil, huh?" He muttered.

Arthur shook his head. "I just want you to learn your lesson, poppet."

"By scaring the living daylights out of me?!"

"Yes," Arthur raised his eyebrows, "I thought it might work. Teach you not to watch these movies when you're alone. Or at least not to come and bother me afterwards."

Alfred pursed his lips, unfolding his arms and shoving his hands in his pockets instead. "Alright then, I'll leave." He said, turning to walk towards the front door.

"Have a nice one," Arthur called from the couch, waving a hand in the air. Alfred's stomach twisted a little. He had hoped for the man to say his apologies and want him to stay. Of course, he was more scared now than ever, and certainly wouldn't do by himself. Swallowing thickly, Alfred stopped by the door, balling his hands into fists.

After a while of not hearing his front door being opened nor closed, Arthur sighed and called out for him. "Alright, Alfred. I'm sorry. You can stay if you want to." Within what seemed to be a second, the latter was back inside the room, a hopeful look on his face.

"Really? And you promise not to scare me anymore?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on, Alfred. It can't have frightened you _that_ much. It's only an old myth."

"Whatever, dude. That doesn't make it any less... Haunting," Alfred looked bitter, "I'm probably gonna have nightmares now, thanks to you."

"Oh, I _do_ apologise. Tell me, what can I do to make it up to you?" The Brit said sarcastically, although it did not seem as if Alfred acknowledged the tone in his voice.

"Just promise you won't do it again, all right?"

Arthur offered a small smile, nodding his head. "Of course." He stood up, taking the now cold cup of tea in his hands.

Following him into the kitchen, Alfred wondered just what the Brit had meant when he asked if Alfred could remember the horrible tales he would read to him as a child. Perhaps he was just trying to get to Alfred's psyche, but it was still confusing. Most stories had been of nicer things. Like the adventures of a superhero, or something of the like.

Alfred leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and watching Arthur with a wrinkle between his brows, as the Brit rinsed the cup with water.

"Hey, Art?" He spoke up after a while, shifting his weight to the other leg uncomfortably.

"Mm?"

Alfred swallowed and looked around a bit. "Maybe I just can't remember it... But you didn't actually read stories like that to me when I was little, right?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course not, Alfred. Only a madman would read something as absurd as that to a young nation as you were." He left the cup in the sink, turning around to offer Alfred an amicable smile as he leaned against the counter. "Whatever stories you can remember, those were the ones I actually read to you."

Alfred nodded pensively, shifting leg again. "So, superheroes, faeries and wizards?"

"Among all, yes. I don't think I had very many superhero stories in stock, however. But you were always craving them anyway."

"No surprise, man. Superheroes rock." Alfred shrugged a shoulder, as if his statement was the most obvious thing in the world. It earned another chuckle and a shake of Arthur's head though. The latter let out a sigh, still smiling tiredly, before walking past Alfred out in the hall.

"You don't think you could get home all right now? You don't seem so scared anymore." Arthur stopped to look at the door, before turning towards Alfred, who's eyes widened as he shook his head hurriedly.

"I thought you said I could stay here?" Said Alfred, panic rising in his voice. Arthur waved a hand dismissively.

"Of course, poppet. I was just thinking-"

"No. I'm not going home tonight." He shook his head again, walking closer to Arthur like a scared child. The latter could not help but to laugh lightly at him, patting his arm kindly before retreating up the stairs. Alfred stood still for a moment, before looking around and deciding that staying by himself downstairs would be almost as scary as going home by himself. Thus, he followed the Brit upstairs, trailing after him like a puppy.

"That's all fine," Arthur mumbled, flickering the lights on in the bathroom. "I'm going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. It's getting late." He informed the other, who just nodded reluctantly and rubbed his neck. "You make yourself at home." His voice called out before being shielded away from Alfred by the bathroom door. He snorted. Make himself at home? This had pretty much been his home for all those years, and he needn't be told to get comfortable around here, really. It came pretty natural to him. Perhaps it was just something Arthur was used to saying, since it seemed inevitable for him to notice the way Alfred would - for good example - just barge in here without being invited. Make yourself at home, alright.

* * *

As Arthur finished himself up, drying his hair with a towel after the quick shower he had taken, he walked into his bedroom to find the American seemingly drifting off in the wide bed. Arthur blinked a few times, before letting out a breath of laughter and shaking his head slowly. Alfred was such a kid, in moments like these. It sure brought back memories.

"Alfred, wake up," Arthur said in a whisper as he shook the other's shoulder gently, earning a disgruntled groan from him. "You know there is a guest bed. I was expecting you to take that."

Alfred cracked an eye open, rubbing the other with his fist. "We always slept in the same bed when I was younger."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, Alfred. That's right. When you were _younger_." The man said, matter-of-factly.

"It's no different now!" The American protested, "I'm scared!"

"You're not scared _anymore_!"

"But I am! You told me that horrible story about the... The... Killington... Castle..."

"Chillingham Castle." Arthur corrected, throwing the towel over the back of a chair, and sitting down on the side of the bed. Alfred sat up, propping his weight up on his elbows.

"Whatever," He winkled his nose.

Arthur let out a sigh, frowning a bit at Alfred's immaturity. "Very well then." He said after a while. Supposedly, it wouldn't matter that much anyway. The bed was big. He was fairly sure that Alfred would either push him off the bed or steal the blankets, though. But he could live with that if only for tonight.

Arthur stood, making his way to the tall closet opposite of the bed. Alfred watched as the Brit rummaged through it for a while, before throwing a pair of sweatpants at him, and taking out a pyjamas for himself as well. Alfred held the pants up, looking at them with squinted eyes, before raising an eyebrow at Arthur. "Dude, I can't wear your clothes! You're like a girl!"

Arthur scowled at him, fury clear in his eyes at the unpleasant comment. "Those are yours."

"Oh... Why do you have them here?" He furrowed his brows.

"You left them here once." Arthur shut the doors of the closet forcefully, as if wanting to show his exasperation through the gesture. "And I am not like a girl!" He protested querulously as he walked towards the bed.

Alfred snorted. "Yeah you are. You're all slender and stuff!" He stood from the bed, taking his shirt off.

Arthur sent him a warning look, taking his own off as well. "I may not be a very well-built man, but I do _not_ have as delicate features as a woman, thank you very much!"

"If you say so," Alfred grinned as Arthur muttered something inaudible under his breath. They were both aware that Arthur never took any of Alfred's lightly thrown comments to heart, despite the insulted ambience he so obviously plastered on.

The Brit did not say any further in the matter, only letting out a huff as he dropped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, very much like Alfred was doing as well. Beside each other they lay, in comfortable silence, before the American couldn't hold back a snigger.

Turning his head towards the other, Arthur furrowed his brows. It seemed as if the younger man beside him had gone mad now, laughing at himself all of a sudden. Perhaps Arthur should begin worrying for him. He did not have the time to ask Alfred about the well-being of his mind, before the latter spoke up, his fingers interwined over his torso.

"Oh man, do you remember that time I found womens' clothing at your house?"

Shock and confusion over Alfred's sudden question shot through the Brit, and he propped himself up on his elbow, being able to look down on the other. "Excuse me?" He said, almost as if Alfred's sentence had been another witty remark about whatever Arthur found insulting.

"Apparently not," Alfred sat up entirely in the bed, his legs crossed. A childish smile graced his features, the same one that Arthur could recall him wearing when he was just that: a child. Alfred continued, "I found womens' clothes in your wardrobe and I took it on. Then I went downstairs to show you, and I remember your face going pale white at the sight!" He told the memory like an old tale, gesturing with his hands, a laughter threatening to spill out any moment. Arthur did remember now, but he didn't dare think Alfred would ever bring the scene up again. He stared at the other with a cross expression, hoping he would get the hint of not talking further of the matter. Alfred however, did not seem to catch the hint in his eye.

"I still don't know to this day what it was doing in your wardrobe, but I sure thought it was fun to dress up," He shook his head absentmindedly, "A lot more than you seemed to enjoy it..." He scratched his head, messing his hair up a little.

"W-Well I-" He broke off, unsure of what to say. Alfred did not seem to have intentions of discussing the reason as to why Arthur had had those clothes in the beginning, so he decided not to think of it either. But it still seemed like an uncomfortable thing to converse about, so he set his mind on steering the topic elsewhere. He cleared his throat, "S-Speaking of dressing up..."

Alfred's smile had faded away, and he watched Arthur attentively. "Do you remember that suit I gave you?" Arthur finished with an amiable smile, sitting up to lean his back against the headboard. Within mere seconds, Alfred's bright smile was back into place, and he nodded excitedly.

"Yeah, I do! Man, I didn't like wearing it.."

"But you liked wearing womens' clothing?" Arthur spoke without thinking, mentally kicking himself for bringing them back to that.

Alfred simply rolled his eyes though. "They were more comfortable than that itchy thing you gave to me."

"You looked good in it though."

"I know." He said with a proud smile, making Arthur roll his eyes as well. "I broke it though. Er, by accident, of course." Alfred told with a hidden glimpse of secrecy lying in his expression. Arthur pursed his lips.

"Indeed. _Accident_." He scowled, knowing very well that Alfred had been very up and about with scissors to make the suit more of his own liking: not wearable. A sheepish chuckle escaped the American, making Arthur more content in knowing that at least he had the decency to actually regret it just the slightest. "Which is why I gave you another one, later on."

"I kept that one, though." He nodded, and it made Arthur raise his eyebrows in astonishment. He hadn't known.

"Really? You did?"

"Mhm," Alfred confirmed with a grin, "I still have it at home. All dusty and too small in size!"

Arthur chuckled lightly. "Not in your wardrobe, ruining your other clothes as well, I reckon?"

"Nah, it's in the stoorage room. You know, I was cleaning out there a while ago, and can you guess what I found?" Alfred beamed enthusiastically.

Arthur thought for a few seconds. There were indeed lots of possible objects. The memories of their past together was infinite, he knew. With a shrug of his shoulders, Arthur smiled sweetly, waiting for the American to go on.

Alfred did so, "The old toy soldiers you gave me!" His eyes were huge with enrapturement, and Arthur felt his own spirit lighten a little bit at the announcement. He'd never thought of Alfred actually saving those silly things. The Brit could remember how he'd painted all of their faces differently, making them more unique. The young, amicable Al had loved them to no end, but surely, Arthur had took for granted that he'd lose interest and eventually throw the useless toys away once he was older. They were not much to keep anyway, he thought.

"You still have those?" The words left him softly, almost weakly, and he had to clear his throat to bring him out of getting emotional. Pathetic, he declared himself, for letting this little thing affect him as if it had been all that important. Which, of course, it wasn't really. At least Arthur would tell himself that these things were not important. No, they were if only wacky.

A nod of Alfred's head, and it made Arthur smile even wider for some reason.

"You bet I do! They weren't in such a good condition as they used to be, but..." He shrugged instead of finishing his sentence.

"That's... I thought you had thrown those old things away a long time ago." Arthur said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I thought so, too, actually." Alfred chuckled, leaning back slightly while holding steadily onto his feet. "But they were down there, all as dusty as the suit, if not even more." His smile turned a little sadder, and his gaze fell low. Arthur could detect not only bitter memories of the past lurking in Alfred's mind, but he actually seemed melancholy about something he had yet to speak of. Worry washed over the Brit, and he reached out to place his fingertips delicately, comfortingly, on Alfred's knee. The latter looked up, question in his eyes.

Arthur offered a friendly smile, pushing the American to lift whatever weight was on his shoulders. For once, he actually seemed to get just what Arthur was trying to tell him with a single look.

With a sigh from Alfred, his eyes darted downwards again, and he spoke. "I also found something else. But... I don't think we should talk about that." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably, and Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion. Whatever could it be that would seemingly upset Alfred so? It must have been something bringing up rather unpleasant memories, and perhaps he was right, that it was not to talk about. However, Arthur was curious.

"What was it?" He asked, ignoring the American's last statement.

Alfred's eyes flickered up to meet Arthur's, half pleading not to make him go there, half hoping he would understand and not be offended or any of the like.

"Do you remember the Revolutionary War?" He answered Arthur's question with another, and the Brit withdrew his hand slowly, looking out over the room. It was clear that he would rather avoid talking about these things, but he had in fact brought it up on himself. Not that Alfred was to push the subject, but still.

"How could I forget?" Arthur let out a bitter laugh.

There was a moment of silence, lying heavy and questioning over the room, before Alfred spoke again. "I found my old rifle. It still had that... That scar." He said. A scar could mean anything. It had been a war, after all. But Arthur knew very well what he was refering to.

"Oh?"

"Mm." Alfred spoke quietly. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned this at all in the first place. "Do you still have your rifle?"

Arthur swallowed thickly. Yes, he did have it. Somewhere. It wasn't as if he held a very immense grudge over what happened, even though it made him bitter every once in a while, but he couldn't seem to let it go. If asked where he had placed it though, he might not give a straight answer. It was probably stuffed somewhere deep in some storage room of his own. "I think so."

Alfred nodded affirmatively, fiddling a bit with the pants he had yet to change into.

There was silence; a much too long and gruff one, and during it Alfred decided that they might as well talk about it. They had never had a real conversation about what happened, and sooner or later it was bound to be discussed. It was a serious matter. An event that had made them realise a lot of things, and as neither of them were still aggravated about it, Alfred felt that they had not entirely made peace with the past. He did not even have a clear image of how Arthur looked at the whole ordeal.

"Artie?" He said warily, and said person looked up at him, "Are you still mad at me for... You know..." He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in what he was saying, "leaving you?"

Arthur looked at him, his lips parted, almost looking a little shocked for a moment. His green orbs turned down, and he closed his mouth entirely, shaking his head ever so slightly. The gesture was enough to make Alfred sigh a breath of relief, though.

"No, Alfred. I was never mad at you for that," He explained, "I was just... Hurt."

Alfred understood this. He had always felt guilty for what he did, even though he did not regret it. His reasons for declaring independence were many. "I'm sorry." He said in what seemed almost as a whisper, and Arthur's amicable eyes turned to meet his own, sorry ones.

"Don't be, poppet. It's all in the past."

"It still seems as if it bothers you, though."

Arthur kept his stare at him, a more serious look on his face. "It bothers me sometimes, but to be honest I would not wish it had ended up any different than what it did."

Alfred was not sure if he was insulted by this, in a way. His ego told him that what Arthur was saying could be translated to 'I don't want you as my colony anymore', which might have been true, but not in the unfriendly way it might have sounded to the younger. Arthur was fine with what happened, even though it was hurtful to be left by someone you cared for deeply, and Alfred understood it all now. He hesitated a moment before scooting closer to his former caretaker, embracing him in a tight hug.

Arthur was a little startled, but let out a chuckle and let his arms encircle the other as well, squeezing him in a cordial manner. With the simple hug, they were both saying their sorries for what happened in the past.

"I didn't do it with intentions to hurt you though, you know." Alfred said after a few seconds had passed.

"I know that!" Arthur said, making it sound like the most obvious thing ever. He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head against Alfred's shoulder. "I know that."

"Good." Alfred furrowed his brows. He wasn't very modest or bashful, but intimate declarations like these were not something common for him. He found himself slightly uncomfortable, but somehow, in a good way. "I'd never hurt you on purpose."

Even though Arthur felt his face heat and take that of a crimson red hue to it, he knew that Alfred was being serious, and he decided not to waste that moment. It was sort of rare, after all. "You don't have to tell me this, Alfred." He said, nevertheless. He knew these things. And Alfred was clearly uncomfortable in confirming them. How much Arthur wanted to hear them didn't really matter right now.

"But I feel like I should. I know that you didn't take it lightly when I became independent, but I didn't do it because of you. Not... Not like that, anyway."

Arthur was a little unsure of what he meant, but didn't question it.

Alfred continued, "I wanted freedom, you know that. I'm not one to stay a colony forever-"

"I know you, and I understand that. I always have." Arthur chuckled. They loosened their grip of each other, settling for holding one of their hands locked with the other's. It was a casual gesture, and Arthur found some comfort through it.

"I had more reasons than only my freedom though. I had tons of them."

"You got some sort of list?" He asked with raised eyebrows, earning a small chuckle from Alfred, who shook his head.

"No. But I just thought I should really prove to you that I didn't leave because I didn't want to be around you or anything. You seemed to think back then that I had left for good."

He awaited a response from Arthur, but didn't get one, and he figured that he had spoken the truth in his words. "Now I'm my own country, but I'm still your friend. I'm still here for ya."

"Where did all this come from all of a sudden?" Arthur asked, letting out a breath of laughter. Really, Alfred had come here being all worked up about some scary movie, and now this?

"Just hear me out," Alfred held a palm up, "I couldn't be your... Your little brother anymore. I wanted to be something else. Something bigger."

Arthur was not sure if what he sensed in Alfred's words were to trust or not, so he asked what he half-hoped was what the American had actually been refering to. "My friend?"

Alfred was silent. It was an alarming sort of silence, but then he spoke, letting Arthur's heart beat at a normal speed again. "Yeah," He said, nodding, "y-yeah..."

Arthur squeezed the other's hand. "Poppet..."

"Maybe we should sleep, eh? It's getting late. I mean, it already was when I came over, right?" He forced a laughter and crawled beneath the covers, losing Arthur's grip in the process. The pants he was meant to sleep in fell to the floor, though none of them really cared about that right now anyway.

Arthur shook his head at the younger man, lying down as well. He grasped Alfred's hand again beneath the warmth of the covers, smiling kindly at him from where he lay at the pillow. "You're so strange, Alfred. How will I ever understand what you're really thinking?"

Alfred chuckled quietly.

With a soft sigh, Arthur closed his eyes. "That's all right though. We'll figure it out, don't you think?"

"Yeah... I suppose so."

"And I'll be here for you as well."

"What?"

"I said, I'll be here for you as well, love."

Alfred swallowed. He was silent for a moment before a content smile spread across his face, and he closed his eyes as well. "Like I'm letting you go soon, anyway."

Arthur sniggered, before they fell into a comfortable silence, letting them both drift off into unconciousness and dreams. As Alfred fell asleep, he was not nearly as frightened as he had been when first arriving, or after hearing the grim tale Arthur had decided to plague him with. He felt the same safe and secure ambiance that had always lay over him as a child, and he decided that if watching ghost movies would bring him to situations like these, he'd make sure to strengthen his habit of doing so immensely.


End file.
